Beneath a cherry tree, where, in its proper season
The cherry strews petals on the green lawn of his grave,
Or beneath any flowering shrub.
Beneath such a tree or shrub he slept, or lifted his head to challenge some intruder.
These are good places, in life or in death.

Yet it is a small matter,
For if the dog be well-remembered,
If sometimes he leaps through your dreams, actual as in life,
Eyes kindling, laughing, begging,
It matters not at all where that dog sleeps.

On a hill where the wind blows, the trees roaring,
Or beside a stream he knew in puppy hood,
Or in the flatness of a pasture lane where cattle grazed,
Is all one to the dog,
And all one to you.
Nothing is gained and nothing is lost if memory lives.
But… there is a place to bury a dog.

If you bury him in this spot he will come to you when you call;
Come to you over the grim, dim frontiers of death,
And down the well-remembered path to your side again.
Another dog will not resent his coming, for he belongs there.

People may scoff at you who see no slightest blade of grass bent by his footfall,
Who hear no whimper;
People who never really loved a dog.
Smile at them, for you shall know something that is hidden from them,
Something well worth the knowing…
The one best place to bury a dog is in the heart of his master.

Prayers for you... We fostered doggies for a good while after our old feller passed... We now have two pups who were our fosters. They found their forever home and wouldn't leave. and yes, the house was awfully quiet those times we didn't have a dog in the house.

Dean
"A dog is the only thing that loves you more than he loves himself"

Seek the Lord while he may be found; call upon him while he is near; let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts; let him return to the Lord, that he may have compassion on him, and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon. Isaiah 55:6,7 ESV

I recently said goodbye to a horse that was dear to me.
I am sad for the loss but grateful that I was able to provide a good life for her.
I pray that you find comfort in that same thought with your dog.

"It was a bit awkward at first but I soon got to be perfectly at home in men's clothes. " -- Calamity Jane

My apologies! The Lampman poem I cut and pasted was a poorly edited version from thedogplace.org. Here's the version Ben Hur Lampman had published in 1925, from petloss.com

Where To Bury A Dog

There are various places within which a dog may be buried. We are thinking now of a setter, whose coat was flame in the sunshine, and who, so far as we are aware, never entertained a mean or an unworthy thought. This setter is buried beneath a cherry tree, under four feet of garden loam, and at its proper season the cherry strews petals on the green lawn of his grave. Beneath a cherry tree, or an apple, or any flowering shrub of the garden, is an excellent place to bury a good dog. Beneath such trees, such shrubs, he slept in the drowsy summer, or gnawed at a flavorous bone, or lifted head to challenge some strange intruder. These are good places, in life or in death. Yet it is a small matter, and it touches sentiment more than anything else.

For if the dog be well remembered, if sometimes he leaps through your dreams actual as in life, eyes kindling, questing, asking, laughing, begging, it matters not at all where that dog sleeps at long and at last. On a hill where the wind is unrebuked and the trees are roaring, or beside a stream he knew in puppyhood, or somewhere in the flatness of a pasture land, where most exhilarating cattle graze. It is all one to the dog, and all one to you, and nothing is gained, and nothing lost -- if memory lives. But there is one best place to bury a dog. One place that is best of all.

If you bury him in this spot, the secret of which you must already have, he will come to you when you call -- come to you over the grim, dim frontiers of death, and down the well-remembered path, and to your side again. And though you call a dozen living dogs to heel they should not growl at him, nor resent his coming, for he is yours and he belongs there.

People may scoff at you, who see no lightest blade of grass bent by his footfall, who hear no whimper pitched too fine for mere audition, people who may never really have had a dog. Smile at them then, for you shall know something that is hidden from them, and which is well worth the knowing.

Lampman wrote it for The Oregonian where much of his work originally appeared.

He's one of my favorite authors, and his angling book, A Leaf from French Eddy, is taken down from my bookshelf for a reread, often. They call his style of writing "sentimental" these days. I feel sorry for the jaded heart that cannot be moved by it. I recommend it to anyone who loves good writing.

Gene Hill is one of the very few contemporary writers I know who comes close, and he's now gone as well. Too many contemporary authors view such warmth and affection for God's creatures and creation as a sign of naiveté. My belief is just the opposite.

Here's a favorite Gene Hill quote:

"No one can fully understand the meaning of love unless he's owned a dog. A dog can show you more honest affection with a flick of his tail than a man can gather through a lifetime of handshakes."

Panda lives in our hearts and will forever, alongside, Spanky (our mutt), and Freckles, Buddy and Quinn (all English setters).

These are the dogs my wife and I have shared and who shared their lives with us over the past thirty years. We hold our childhood dogs in our hearts separately, but have shared so many stories about them it's almost as if we owned them together as well.

Neither of us would have dreamed of marrying anyone who did not love dogs.

But my wife does not hunt. This Gene Hill quote I hold silently in my heart:

"A grown man walking in the rain with a sodden bird dog at his heels who can smile at you and say with the kind of conviction that brings the warmth out in the open, 'I’d rather be here, doing this, right now, than anything else in the world,' is the man who has discovered that the wealth of the world is not something that is merely bought and sold."

I can't begin to list all the hunting buddies who have written or called since hearing of Panda's passing to lament and laugh with stories about our bird dogs who have moved on.

This is a profound sadness that contains an even more profound gratitude.

Thanks for posting the piece, Hov.

The most improper job of any man, even saints, is bossing other men. Not one in a million is fit for it, and least of all those who seek the opportunity.. J.R.R. Tolkien